


Brooklyn, You're Killing Me

by myracingthoughts



Series: Darcy Lewis Bingo [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Innuendo, Sexual Humor, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26321674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myracingthoughts/pseuds/myracingthoughts
Summary: The highlight of Darcy Lewis’s evening was supposed to be sneaking a bottle of champagne out of Avengers Tower before binge-watching 90 Day Fiancé on her couch.That was until a knock at her office door threw a wrench in her plans.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers
Series: Darcy Lewis Bingo [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1927495
Comments: 34
Kudos: 336
Collections: Darcy Lewis Bingo





	Brooklyn, You're Killing Me

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for Darcy Lewis Bingo and checks off box A1 - Darcy x Steve.

Listen, today was supposed to be a typical Friday. Maybe a little better than usual, even. 

The highlight of Darcy’s evening was going to be sneaking a bottle of champagne out of Avengers Tower before expertly binge-watching 90 Day Fiancé on her couch. After all, Darcy Lewis was a woman of simple pleasures and little nightlife, and honestly, she was fine with that. 

That was until a knock at her office door threw a wrench in her plans. 

She’d had barely processed who was at the door when Steve Rogers had waltzed into her office and asked if she’d come with him to tonight’s gala. Darcy Lewis, in turn, nearly choked on her coffee before managing to sputter out a, “What?”

Sure, being Cap’s date for the night might have _sounded_ like a fairytale, but as the resident PR Manager, she knew better. Whoever accompanied Captain America was a glorified human shield. It was a high stakes job, but even so, she couldn’t find it in her to say no. 

Not to Steve, not to that smile. Not to those stupid, gorgeous puppy dog eyes.

“So, you’ll come with me?” She watched his face light up with a grin, one she couldn’t help but match.

And with that, her entire evening changed. She’d gone from being able to get away with a little black dress to being on the arm of the night’s guest of honour. So long, champagne and 90DF. 

One look at the clock sent Darcy Lewis into a flurry, shutting down her computer and grabbing her purse in two quick swipes. She bounded out of her office and down the hall towards the only person she knew who could even come close to solving this for her in the few hours she had left in the day. 

* * *

“Pepper Potts, you are a miracle worker.”

Seven dresses, two glasses of champagne and an angelic seamstress on the Upper East Side were all it took to get Darcy ready for that evening. Well, and a certain strawberry blonde at the helm of it all. Pepper had been her fairy godmother for the night, and suddenly Darcy felt compelled to order her a trophy or something that said as much.

One elevator ride later, she was in the middle of the action.

Stark Industries played host for the night’s festivities. The lobby was a veritable treasure trove of who’s who in Jimmy Choos. Darcy had arranged some private pre-interviews to be done ahead of the official start time, so she got straight to work, shuffling Avengers to and from rooms, tables and booths to meet their respective journalists. 

It was organized chaos, a perfectly-timed dance, and any stutter or misstep would end up on her plate the next morning, so, clipboard in hand, Darcy was the pinnacle of professionalism. 

At least until the interviews wrapped.

“I know I don’t have to tell _you_ anything,” Darcy crooned to Steve’s charming smile, well out of earshot of any of the other Avengers. “You’re the only one I don’t have to worry about.”

“Darcy Lewis, are you saying your date is boring?” Steve teased, the corner of that perfect mouth lifting.

Her heart skipped a beat with that four-letter word. _Date_.

A grin masked her surprise, holding back the ‘kind of’ perched on the tip of her tongue, “No, I’m saying _Steve Rogers_ doesn’t take risks with this kind of stuff, which means you’re my favourite.” She clapped a hand on his very firm bicep to punctuate the response.

Excellent PR spin, Darcy.

Steve was hurried along to his next interview before he could get in a response, and Darcy resumed her watchful eye over the chats. She’d only had to chastise one of the outlets for going off script so far — J. Jonah Jameson, to no one’s surprise— so she considered the evening a win.

But there were always a few networks who toed the line, so she kept her ears sharp.

“Have you spent a lot of time exploring our great nation, Captain?” Darcy could hear the Georgia twang of an out-of-town anchor a mile away.

“Uh, not as much as I’d like. I think one of my goals for this year is to spend a little more time down south, actually,” Steve caught Darcy’s eye just beyond the camera with that panty-melting smile, and she suddenly had to remind herself this was Captain America talking.

There was no way he’d meant that line in the way that sent heat from her cheeks to her toes. And she was a bad person for letting her thoughts go there. The man was talking about geography, and her mind went straight to the gutter? Typical. But the nerves were already settling in, and her pulse quickened to a pace somewhere between running to catch the subway and being interrogated by Director Fury. 

Ugh, she needed a time-out and a stiff drink before her thoughts walked away with her.

Darcy watched on from the sidelines as he shook the anchor’s hand and beelined out of frame. It wasn’t long before Steve made his way back towards Darcy, out of sight of the rest of the journalists already packing up their equipment.

“I forgot to tell you,” Darcy’s ears perked up at the tone, frowning slightly. “You look beautiful,” Steve said softly, his usual Cap voice gone with the media out of earshot.

Darcy felt the warmth spread from her cheeks down to her neck, managing to stutter out a quiet “Thanks” before staring up at those ocean blues. There was a glint of something she couldn’t quite decode there. Something she would have assumed was more Bucky than Steve. 

She tried to channel her flush into adjusting his tie that was just a little off-kilter and only at her eye line.

“Perfect,” she said to her handiwork with a wry smile. “But you were already perfect.”

His gaze trailed to the slightly-too-large statement necklace resting against her decollate. She’d struggled to find something to fit the dress’s neckline, but without much time to go shopping, she and Pepper had settled on this. Steve seemed to have other ideas, the corner of his mouth turning down as he slipped a finger under the thick metal backing.

She tried not to think too hard about the jolt that set in with his skin on hers.

“I always picture you in something classic,” he mused. “I always like a string of pearls on a dame.”

Darcy quirked a brow in surprise before she tamped it back down. God, that 1940s mouth was going to get him in trouble one of these days. 

_Down, Darcy._

Steve was flagged down by his final interview down the hall before she could stutter out a reply. She wasn’t sure whether it was just another modern-day lingo blunder. Maybe it was unintentional innuendo coupled with his media-facing charm in full force. 

Or maybe, just maybe, he was putting on a show for her.

Whatever it was, it got her attention. 

She was starting to think wasn’t the Steve Rogers _she_ was familiar with, but whoever he was tonight, he was her date, and she was along for the ride.

With no one left to babysit, Darcy, overheated media person extraordinaire, made her way to the ballroom to catch her breath.

Distracted by the buzz of work emails and ping of social media notifications, Darcy leaned herself against a cruiser table and half-heartedly skimmed her inbox.

“Darcy, put that away,” Pepper nudged gently, seemingly out of nowhere. It scared the living hell out of Darcy, and she nearly dropped her phone in the process. “Tonight, you’re not on the clock. You’re a guest. Kind of an important one, actually.”

“Only because Steve didn’t want to go solo. _Optics_ ,” Darcy shot back like it explained everything, but she tucked away her phone anyway. 

As much as she tossed around dirty jokes and (not-really-)jokingly pined over the Captain around the office, she only did so _out loud_ because it was so outside the realm of possibility. He was like a 22 to her 7.5 on a 10-point scale.

“I think you’ve forgotten that I was Tony’s assistant long before we made it official,” Pepper said cryptically. “And that SI has paperwork to cover basically any situation.”

Darcy’s face scrunched at the implication. There was no way she’d be making any moves on Steve Rogers tonight, “I think you have the wrong idea, Pep. Steve is so far out of my league I’d need a spaceship for a chance. Plus, if he were into me, I’d know. Steve is a lot of things, but subtle’s not one of them.”

Darcy missed the way Pepper’s lip twitched into a smirk. Her eyes were instead sweeping across the dancefloor as she tried desperately to change the subject into something far, far away from her sad love life. 

“Of course, Darcy. No blind spots. Got it.”

Darcy spotted a server with a tray of champagne flutes —the good stuff— and suddenly didn’t feel so out of place. 

“Anyway, since I’m here and off the clock, I guess I _could_ treat myself to a glass or two. You know, since I’m a guest and all.”

Pepper grinned, and with a quick nod of approval, Darcy made a beeline to the server and plucked a flute off the tray. The bubbles sang like a choir of angels on her tongue, and feeling a little less stiff already, she made her way back towards her date.

Distracted by watching the rows of penguin suits and designer dresses, she was pretty sure she only managed to make out the latter half of Steve’s conversation starter, “Desperate to get off?”

“What?” she sputtered, startled as she tuned back into the conversation.

There was no way that was all he said. She must have misheard that.

“ _Work_. Were you that desperate to get a night off work that you accepted my offer out of pity?” a teasing grin stretched across his face at her expression, realizing he’d caught her off guard. 

And that’s when she knew for sure Steve knew exactly what he was doing.

All night she’d been telling herself that he _had_ to know, but couldn’t quite believe it. As much as Captain America was poked fun at for his chivalry, Steve Rogers was no boy scout. And that devious glint and his grin confirmed it. 

Those double entendres weren’t just innocent slip-ups. Steve was fucking with her. 

And not in the fun way she could get off on. 

But now that the rules had changed and the flip had switched somewhere inside Darcy, he had her attention, and she was intent on keeping it.

“Jesus Christ, Steve. You can just go walking up to a woman saying those things. You’ll get her hopes up. What happened to the whole Captain America act?” she teased, hoping he’d spill where this secret sexy had been hiding all of her life.

“I can stop anytime you want, Darcy,” he said levelly, lips close enough to trail breath on her bare neck. “I assumed you wouldn’t mind, considering you keep telling the ladies at work you want to… what was the phrase? Climb me like a tree?”

Darcy’s ears went straight red, upset at herself for not assuming his hearing was _that_ good. Her mouth made its best impression of a goldfish as she tried to pull together a response.

Putting her out of her misery, Steve offered her a hand, “Wanna dance?”

This was the same same man who opened doors for little old ladies and still whipped out a “ma’am” or two now and then. But _this_ Steve… This Steve was a fast learner —a star pupil, in fact— and somehow, the teacher was quickly becoming the student. Either he and Bucky had been trading tips, or he’d had this kind of mouth on him the whole time. 

And really, how could she be mad at that? 

If anything, she was impressed.

“I thought you didn’t dance,” she said incredulously before taking it. 

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he shot over his shoulder as he led her to the dancefloor. “Well, another one.”

He was just full of surprises tonight.

She could feel the eyes around the room on her. She was suddenly thankful it was only her hired photographer allowed to take photos tonight — not that she wasn’t going to harass him for a print of this Cindarella-esque moment later. She could feel envy, a little confusion, but somewhere in the crowd, she spotted Pepper Potts, a proud look on her face.

“All those things Bucky claims about my two left feet?” 

Baby blues alight and on her low back, just grazing the bare skin above where he set it. A trail of goosebumps in its wake. Steve led her into a natural rhythm, sweeping her smoothly across the floor. 

“Don’t believe everything you read, doll. I’ve had some time to improve that particular skill. And a few others.”

Grinning from ear to ear, this semi-private moment was better than anything she could have dreamed up, as though she’d had some out of body experience. It wasn’t the champagne behind the blush on her face. No, Steve did that all on his own.

As the song ended and he led her off the floor, hand feeling extra dainty in his, she had to fan herself to try to get her temperature under control. Always the gentleman, he had a drink in her hand in an instant, watching as she cooled off. But as much as she wanted to melt into the moment, fall into this fairy tale, barely believing she was with the human specimen currently keeping her upright. 

This wasn’t some hallucination, but there was a whisper of self-doubt.

“You really should have a model on your arm or something,” Darcy remarked, trying to keep her _strictly_ PR-focussed assessment as level as possible.

If she had known Steve had had _this_ in him the whole time and wasn’t going to blush himself into a tomato, she might have made that recommendation out loud weeks earlier.

“Not my type,” he said plainly.

He was leaned against the bar now, head crooked down to answer as she tried to keep her heart rate in check. 

“Well, what is your type, Mister Rogers?” her tone a little more playful now.

“Someone a less…” he paused, looking for the right word, “cookie cutter.”

“Ironic, coming from you,” she snorted.

The picture of perfection standing in front of her wanted someone outside of the box. Sure, she could maybe buy that. But not _her_. Darcy wouldn’t stand a glimmer of a chance in his world, not against the models, the actresses, the environmental activists. He had a sea of women (and men) who’d easily drop their entire lives (and wardrobes) for a _chance_ at the night she’d been having.

“Come on, Darcy. You work in PR now. You must know that not everything is as it appears,” his mouth was a little closer to her ear now, breath reaching down to her bare shoulders. “Haven’t I proven that enough yet?”

He had that glint in his eye, the hint of mischief that made her second guess her earlier judgement.

But she couldn’t be sure.

“What about this?” she leaned in closer, too, as if challenging him to prove her wrong. “Is this what it appears to be?”

“What does this appear to be?” His mouth was all teeth, smirk peeking through his lips.

“You’re either trying really hard to let me down easy, or you, Steven Grant Rogers, are flirting with me.”

“Is it working? I’m a little rusty.”

“The former or the latter?”

His breathy chuckle sent shivers down her spine, but he didn’t back down. Neither of them did. And to anyone looking, it might have looked like they were in on a little secret, a private joke between them. But the heat and the tension was almost suffocating, and Darcy was hoping, praying to any entity that would listen that Steve would do something.

Anything to break it.

“Are you always this complicated, Darcy Lewis?” he husked. “I’ve been trying to play the game your way all night, but I don’t think it’s working.”

“Uncomplicate it for me.”

With a sweep of his arm, he effortlessly twirled her closer to the party’s edge, just beyond the view of the rest of the guests. Hand still grasping hers, he led her through a set of french doors and into an unoccupied hallway. He hesitated for a moment, looking down on her as if for permission. A hint of the chivalrous Steve Rogers the media knew.

Had it been any other man with his hand around hers, she might have been nervous and questioned his intentions. But this was Steve. So when he backed her up against the wall and planted his mouth firmly over his, her eyebrows shot up into her hairline. 

But not before her hand wrapped around the nape of his neck, and she melted into his grasp. Human putty against the wall — it would have been almost embarrassing how easily she let go. But she wasn’t really thinking straight at the moment.

His lips were soft and warm, inviting. Safe. Her thumbs traced the line of his jaw as he deepened the kiss, a little more intense now, almost possessive. Like he’d let go of everything holding them both back.

A few more minutes and Darcy’s panties probably would have slipped down to the floor in a puddle, but alas, oxygen was necessary, and she was already lightheaded as they pulled away.

“Was that clear enough?”

She couldn’t find the words as she stared up at his lipstick-stained mouth. For once in her life, Darcy Lewis was speechless. A giggle passed her lips as she tried to remove the deep burgundy evidence streaked across his face, and he pulled out his pocket square to assist.

“Well, that was nice,” Steve said, finally breaking the silence.

“Just nice?” she put on her best faux-pout. “Hmm, guess I’ll have to try harder next time."

“ _Real_ nice. Perfect, even.”

Still leaned against the wall, between his arms caged on either side of her face, it took some time for her heartbeat to settle down to human levels.

“So, does the man with the plan have any plans after this event?” she asked airily, trying not to give away just how flustered she was inside.

And there was that smirk again, creeping up onto his lips and sending shivers down her spine.

“Just you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading. All comments, kudos and bookmarks are loved and cherished.
> 
> You can also find me on [tumblr](https://pasmonblog.tumblr.com/), where I post comic book content, work updates, and behind-the-scenes commentary.


End file.
